


Moving Mountains

by underthenorthstar



Series: The Lion and the Wild [1]
Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Elf Hunter/Warrior, F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, Kiss on the Battlements, Romance, cuteness, mostly canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-09
Updated: 2015-03-09
Packaged: 2018-03-17 02:17:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3511553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/underthenorthstar/pseuds/underthenorthstar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ellyrianna Lavellan is completely smitten with Commander Cullen Rutherford. A short take on the battlements kiss sequence.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Moving Mountains

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't follow the exact dialogue of the scene, hopefully you still enjoy!

Ellyrianna Lavellan was not a woman easily flustered. Growing up as a hunter in her clan, she was taught to be poised, calm, still. You are a mountain, her father had said. You are unmovable, unyielding. Nothing will wear you down. You are the master of the hunt and you are in total control. 

Well wouldn't her father love to see her now. 

Flustered. Frayed. Trembling. Out of control. A mountain on the verge of being moved. 

And it was all because of him.

Cullen.

He'd snuck up on her, like she used to sneak up on her prey. Pleasant brown eyes, large strong hands, soft smiles, warm honeyed voice. They'd crept up on her slowly, until they were all she could think about. All she could dream about. She was sinking fast, like a pebble tossed into a rushing stream. It was wonderful and terrible and completely unexpected. 

What she wouldn't give to be swept up in those strong arms, pressed against that silver breastplate, inhaling his overwhelming scent of leather and sweat and parchment. His large hands cradling her face, pink lips with the perfect scar slanting hotly over hers, warm and wet and perfect. That beautiful honey voice murmuring her name in a way that would wrack her entire body with a pleasurable shiver. 

Well, she is nothing if not a woman of action. Which is why she currently finds herself standing outside her Commander's office, staring at the wooden brown door and shaking in her boots. 

You are strong, she tells herself. You are a mountain, calm and proud and unmovable. You can tell Commander Cullen how you feel. Creators, you will utterly explode if you don't. 

The elf takes a deep breath, tucking a lock of her unruly chestnut hair behind a pointed ear. A shaking fist finds it's way into the air, and she knocks.

"Come in."

He's hunched over some papers at his desk, broad fur covered shoulders curved inwards like a lion waiting to pounce. She smiles to herself. The Lion of Skyhold indeed. 

"Inquisitor!" He stands, his face a display of pleasant surprise. "What can I do for you?"

Creators, why did he make her feel like a silly youth with a crush? He's barely said two sentences and she is already going weak in the knees. 

"I was wondering if I could speak to you." Thank goodness her voice isn't shaking. Praise the Creators for that small miracle. "Alone."

The most adorably flustered look crosses his face. "A-alone? Oh, of course! Um, shall we?"

He sweeps his arm towards the battlements, gesturing for her to go ahead of him. She can't help but let out a quiet sigh. Always such a gentleman. 

Once on the battlements, she takes a moment to gulp in a few lungfuls of fresh air. Being outside always puts her at ease. Trees, wind, water, sky, it all feels like home so much more than stone ever could. A reminder that while she was the Inquisitor, she will always be first and foremost an elf of the wild. 

"Nice day, isn't it?"

She jumps, his voice triggering her out of her personal thoughts. "What?"

"Oh," he's suddenly looking at the ground, a hand coming up to scratch at the back of his neck. Creators, how she loves when he does that. "Never mind, there was, uh, something you wanted to discuss?" 

Her heart begins to beat like a drum inside her chest. Mountain, she remindes herself. Calm. Strong. Solid. You can do this. 

"Cullen," she starts, his name rolling off her tongue as sweetly as honey dripping from the comb, "I find myself....thinking of you. A lot." 

Those soft brown eyes she could drown herself in shoot up to her face, wide with surprise. "You've been thinking of me?"

"Yes," her words begin to tumble out before she can stop them. "All the time really. It's hard to think of anything else." 

Creators, she sounds like a lovesick fool. Her father would cringe in shame. Would Cullen as well? Her heartbeat thrums a little harder. 

" I must confess, I've had thoughts about what I'd say to you in this situation."

Heart as fast as a hummingbird now. Cold air rushes into her lungs, mouth hanging slightly ajar in mild shock. 

"What's stopping you?" She asks softly, barely daring to believe. To hope.

"You're the Inquisitor," he makes a face, frustration evident on his handsome features. "We're at war. And," he pauses, eyes softening as they meet hers, "I didn't think it was possible."

Her heart misses a beat.

"And yet, I'm still here," she somehow manages to say, her skin singing with anticipation as he takes a step closer. Creators, she can smell him now, and it sends a ripple of desire shooting through her. 

"So you are," his voice becomes thick and low, eyes searching her face for something he seems to find, for he starts leaning in. Her eyes flutter closed, lips automatically parting. She can feel his warm breath fanning across her face. 

"It almost seems too much to ask," he sighs softly, gloved hands coming up to gently cradle her face. "But I want..." 

"Commander!"

The spell breaks, her eyes shoot open and disappointment itches across her skin. Cullen jumps back as if burned, his eyes moving to the oblivious soldier now standing in their midst.

"You wanted a copy of Sister Leiliana's report," the man continues, staring at the paper in his hands. She looks at her feet, feeling a hot blush spreading across her face. The Dread Wolf take this stupid man and his horrible timing. 

"What?" Cullen practically growls, the sound so primal she can't help but shiver. She suddenly pictures them somewhere else, skin against skin as he growls that primal growl into her ear. Her blush deepens.

Neither the soldier or Cullen notice. Cullen is too busy glaring and the soldier is too busy finally realizing he's interrupted something. He nearly trips over himself trying to leave.

"Or to your office!" He stammers. "Right!"

Ellyrianna lets out a sigh at his retreat, disappointment building in her chest. Whatever was going to happen between her and the Commander will certainly not happen now. She scuffs her boots against each other, still unable to look the handsome man in front of her in the face.

"If you have to-oh!"

She doesn't get to finish, because without any warning, Cullen grabs her face between his palms and crushes her lips to his.

Stunned, she simply stands there, mouth slack against his in surprise. Surely she is dreaming. Any moment she's going to wake up to one of Leiliana's ravens cawing incessantly at her window. 

But then Cullen pulls her closer, her hands coming to rest against him, warm and sturdy and oh so real.

The floodgates open.

She molds her lips to his with wild abandon, revelling in the low pleased sound that escapes from his throat. His lips are softer then she could ever imagine, warm and sweet like a heady ale. His body is solid muscle against her own soft curves, and she thinks she wants nothing more than to curl herself into him, warm and safe and satisfying. 

It's over all too soon. He pulls away with a bashful look on his face, a faint pink tinge splashed across his cheekbones. 

"I'm sorry," he stutters, cheeks flaring even pinker. "That was, uh, really nice."

Creators, it was more than nice, she thinks to herself. She wants to lean in again, to press the flat of her tongue to the scar above his lip, but a little niggle in the back of her brain stops her.

"You don't, you don't regret it, do you?" She has to ask, has to make sure. Her heart squeezes painfully; oh Mythal, he could break it in half with just one word. 

But it doesn't break, it swells, for he smiles at her and says "No. No, not at all." 

His mouth descends to hers again, and she has to suppress the happy sob rising in her throat. His second kiss is softer than the first, a gentle promise of something wild and wonderful. 

She smiles against his lips. It seems mountains can be moved, after all.


End file.
